Arctic Monkeys - Who the Fuck are Arctic Monkeys

Now seems like an appropriate time to post this.

Have you always wanted our muses to meet, but didn’t know how they would first interact? Send me one of the following ice breakers so we can embark on our roleplaying adventure!

casual reminder that you’re not just my followers you’re my friends whether you like it or not that is what you signed up for when you hit the follow button 

Send me "Dark!" and my muse will become the darker version of themselves for as long as you say

by sean landers

Reminds me of “Combat Primer” by Bukowski:

they called Celine a Nazi / they called Pound a fascist / they called Hamsun a Nazi and a fascist. they put Dostoevsky in front of a firing squad / and they shot Lorca / gave Hemingway electric shock treatments (and you know he shot himself) / and they ran Villon out of town (Paris) / and Mayakovsky disillusioned with the regime / and after a lovers’ quarrel, well, he shot himself too. Chatterton took rat poison and it worked. and some say Malcolm Lowry died choking on his own vomit while drunk. Crane went the way of the boat propellor or the sharks. Harry Crosby’s sun was black. Berryman preferred the bridge. Plath didn’t light the oven. Seneca cut his wrists in the bathtub (it’s best that way: in warm water). Thoma and Behan drank themselves to death and there are many others. and you want to be a writer? it’s that kind of war: creation kills, many go mad, some lose their way and can’t do it anymore. a few make it to old age. a few make money. some starve (like Vallego). it’s that kind of war: casualties everywhere. all right, go ahead / do it / but when they sandbag you from the blind side don’t come to me with your regrets. now I’m going to smoke a cigarette in the bathtub and then I’m going to sleep.

when you hear your parents talking shit from another room

Photo courtesy: Unknown Charge(s): DUI

Everything here is shippable. Even I'm shippable; But that, dear children, is self insertion, and is in fact frowned upon in most fandoms.

The accuracy!

Elwood P Dowd

"Love is just an old sentimentality. Just like married people always seem to think love is the answer. You don't have to tell me twice."

listen - download

Lisa snorted, “If it’s the /back off/ look you’re going for, Morticia, you’re going about it all wrong. But I’m always open to give pointers, just throwing that out there.”

A cloud of smoke drifted in her direction, and she would’ve coughed or even flinched if she weren’t...

Lisa scoffed, "Polly's a bitch along with every other basket case on this ward..." she diverted her gaze toward nowhere in particular. Her smile seemed to falter for a second, but she grinned mischievously once again, "/Self-admitted nutso/, huh? Is this place your nirvana, honey? Can't say I blame you too much for choosing this place over a jail cell. The food is shit but the arts and crafts really gets my juices pumping, because, y'know, I'm into that sort of thing."

Lisa ran her tounge over her top lip, "You're quite the riot grrl, but I doubt that you're a voluntary nutso. Usually all the voluntary ones cling to everyone like a fuckin' magnet, they do what they can to make this place feel home-y. At least that's what I've noticed. But if you're dead set on pouting in your corner, Morticia, I can give you a run down on just who you're dealing with here."

Lisa rocked back on her heels and raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure we've already covered Polly. Daisy's a bitch, too. She's so fucking blind and naïve it pains me. Her dad fucks her, y'know. I'd hardly call it rape..." Lisa trailed off, "...don't you give me that look. I'm the ringleader of this circus. I'm on your side."